Touch Upon the Ground You Walk
by DragonWolfStar
Summary: Ichigo makes a different choice that day, and doesn't use Mugetsu.  But who can say the consequences are any better? In the end, there's always a price for power.


A/N: Not a happy fic. Nonetheless, enjoy!

Touch Upon the Ground You Walk

Ichigo stared down at his hands, covered in elegant black leather, as he waited for his sisters. He'd promised Yuzu that he'd walk them home today, and he twisted the fabric slightly in a nervous gesture he'd only recently acquired. The gloves had been a gift, of sorts, from his dad. Expensive, comfortable, and to be worn at all times.

He sighed, running his fingers along the smooth metal railing he couldn't quite feel through the soft leather. How long would it take, he wondered, to forget what it felt like for good? Already it seemed he couldn't remember. Subtle ridges and bumps disappeared under the texture of his gloves, and their warmth took the edge off the railing's slight chill. Rigid metal softened by supple fabric.

No one would notice, would they? If he took them off for just a moment. Hands slid easily out of their confines – too easily, almost – and traced the railing. Fingers trailed lightly along the surface, every slight sensation registering sharply along senses hypersensitive from their first real use in months.

He marveled at how unfamiliar it was. His sense of touch had been limited to the things one could commonly find in a bathroom – for bathing and other everyday necessities– and the expensive pair of gloves for over half a year now. It was rare that he was allowed, or rather, allowed himself, to experience other sensations. Even then there were things he wouldn't dare to touch.

Ichigo's absent-minded tracing stopped abruptly when he nearly ran into Yuzu, who beamed at him until her eyes caught sight of the damned gloves, carried loosely in a long-fingered grasp.

"Oh, Onii-chan…" Her gaze turned downcast.

"Sorry," he muttered, pulling them back on. He resisted the urge to pick at the suddenly uncomfortable leather.

She gave him a deliberate, practiced smile, reaching her arms around him in a careful embrace. Ichigo flinched before returning it with equal caution, feeling the muted comfort of his sister's presence – alive and safe. Her warmth was almost covered by the gloves' own.

She was the one he had to be the most careful with. Not through any fault of her own, of course, or even because people tended to view her as the most fragile of their family (which was so very, very wrong). But she had taken after her mother, in particular in one crucial aspect.

Her reiatsu was barely above that of a normal soul's.

A mere brush of his skin across hers would be devastating. It didn't truly matter, though. Even a captain would burn under his touch, as Gin's arm had disintegrated at Aizen's. Ichigo's own body had nearly been crushed by the invisible power and proximity to his soul, and it was only because of Urahara that he was still living at all.

_I stood a dimension above you, Aizen, when you stood one above everything else. _

He was powerful. He'd done his duty. But now he was paying the price – and the cost for the safety of his home and his loved ones had been steep.

Karin ran up to them then, and Ichigo was almost grateful that she wasn't as openly affectionate as her twin. Not quite though, because she had become even less so after her own near miss with his power.

She'd smacked him upside the head for being an idiot – something commonplace enough that no one had thought anything of it. At least, not until her hand had burned away.

Inoue had awoken that night to a nearly hysterical shinigami substitute literally begging her to restore his little sister's arm. Everyone else had finally woken to the unavoidable fact that _his powers were dangerous. _His powers were _deadly_ even when he didn't want them to be.

_Was this what you felt then, Aizen?_

Karin's eyes flicked to his covered hands. Ichigo could see her repress a frown before she covered it by grabbing his arm and – carefully – dragging him away from the middle school she and Yuzu attended. His own uniform blocked her touch, and all Ichigo could feel at that was tired.

He knew what lay after death. A mere facsimile of intimacy for what could be millennia. Ichigo wasn't really a tactile person, but even now he felt starved of the casual contact his friends and family could so easily display around one another, but never with him. He was so tired of having to watch his every movement so that no skin would ever touch another living being.

_Did you ever get tired of it all? You maintained the illusion of a respectable captain for nearly a century. Here I am, six months into pretending to be human. And I'm exhausted._

Six months after the final battle, and he still deeply regretted not using the Saigo no Getsuga Tensho. He could hear the rain in his heart, the chill downpour drowning out the voices of his companions – the two who, for better or worse, could never truly leave him.

He could still use it, he knew. All he needed was a target. Hueco Mundo would be perfect. But that would leave him vulnerable afterward, wouldn't it? And no way to get home.

Was it worth it?

Yuzu smiled up at him as they reached the clinic, and thanked him cheerfully for walking them home. Her earlier sadness seemed to have vanished. Karin rolled her eyes and followed her inside, Ichigo hesitating slightly before doing the same.

His sisters were safe. He had the power to protect them for the rest of their lives.

For now, it was enough.

_Solitude._

In a hundred years?

They'd see.


End file.
